


making up

by cupofkey



Series: drabble requests [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Makeup, Nyotalia, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofkey/pseuds/cupofkey
Summary: Chiara and Isabel get ready to dance.
Relationships: Female South Italy/Female Spain (Hetalia), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Series: drabble requests [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822141
Kudos: 23





	making up

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, check out my blog [@cupofkey](https://cupofkey.tumblr.com) for more stuff about my ballroom dance AU! also feel free to send me a drabble request anytime, I love writing these.
> 
> please enjoy :)

“Fucking Christ,” Chiara grumbles. “I gave you _twenty_ minutes.”

Isabel grins sheepishly, because Chiara did give her twenty minutes to do her makeup, and in that time she’s done…

Well, _nothing_ is an understatement. _Something_ is a bit of an exaggeration.

“Fine, fine, sit down,” Chiara says, sighing deeply, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt and sitting on the bed. “I guess I’m doing your makeup. _Again._ Did you prep?”

“I did!” Isabel says. She closes her eyes and waits— that grin tugs on her face again, something giddy whirling around in her chest.

_If I was just waiting for her to come and do it for me, well, she doesn’t need to know._ (Isabel has done this so much more than she’d like to admit.) Still, there’s nothing better than Chiara doing her makeup, nothing nicer than the amicable silence they share, the warm pressure of Chiara’s hands on her face. 

“At least you got changed,” Chiara sighs, stippling over her eyelids with a brush.

Isabel chuckles. “I did. I even remembered to pack my shoes.”

“Thank God,” Chiara says. She lightly tugs up on Isabel’s eyebrow with her thumb, going back in with another brush closer to her eyelashes. “I’m never dancing with you when you’re in heels again. Ever.”

“Hey, at least it wasn’t as bad as—”

“We _don’t_ talk about that,” Chiara hisses, “you _know_ I overstep like crazy if I’m not wearing heels—”

“Exactly!” Isabel bursts into laughter, something that makes Chiara huff and adjust her hands. “We’re both incompetent.”

“Excuse me,” Chiara says, “what the fuck?”

“Shush, just do my makeup,” Isabel murmurs.

“Fine,” Chiara hisses back, and they’re silent for a bit, Isabel staying as still as she can while Chiara runs a careful finger over the edges of her eye makeup.

“Are you doing something dramatic?” Isabel says. “What colors?”

“ _You_ shush,” Chiara mutters. “You’ll see. Now look up.”

Isabel obliges. Chiara dabs something under her eyes, across her cheeks and forehead before swiping a brush over it all— and she finds herself melting into that touch all over again, so gentle and light, warm and soft. _For someone who likes to act all rough around the edges, she’s really so…_

_When we dance and she slides her leg across mine, tilting me back, holding me up— when she presses closer to me in the middle of the night. When she whispers something embarrassing into my ear. When she’s doing my makeup, like right now. Soft. Safe. Easy._

“Okay,” Chiara says, biting her lip with a frown. “Relax your— your mouth.”

Isabel grins, puckering up instead and leaning forward, laughter threatening to overflow. 

“What. Are you doing.”

She just makes the stupid kissy noises she knows Chiara absolutely hates. “Kiss first, lipstick later?”

“Jesus fucking _Christ,_ ” Chiara says.

More kissy noises. Chiara rolls her eyes, leans in, and one peck turns into several, into a few seconds too many.

“Alright, enough, you’re gonna—” she mutters, gentle hands on Isabel’s cheeks— “I’m gonna mess up your foundation. Besides, I actually have to do your lipstick or we’ll be late.”

Isabel grins, tries to relax, ends up grinning again. “Okay, okay, just do it.”

“I’m _trying._ ”

At some point Chiara clears her throat— she’s glancing huffily to the side when Isabel opens her eyes, holding up a hand mirror:

_Red lipstick. Neutral eyeshadow, with a shimmery gold in the inner corner and warm red on the waterline, a trace of warm blush and highlight across and up the sides of my face. A little bit of mascara, a few strokes of eyebrow pomade._

_I look gorgeous. I’m glowing._

“You’re… a genius at this,” Isabel murmurs, blinking at that goddess in the mirror. 

Chiara rolls her eyes. “You say that every damn time.”

“It’s true!” Isabel insists, raising her eyebrows at her reflection, turning left and right to admire the way it all shimmers in the light. “I always look amazing when you do my makeup. You’re a miracle worker.”

“You just— you’re, you,” Chiara mutters, turning away, “I don’t know, it just works because of your face. That’s all.”

Isabel frowns. “Well, look at you! Your makeup is so pretty too, and you’re already—”

“Okay,” Chiara interrupts, already flustered-looking and vigorously rearranging her vanity. “Whatever. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, of course,” Isabel says with a smile. “I’m excited to dance with you.”

“And not trip over each other,” Chiara sighs. 

Isabel grins. “As long as you don’t drop me during the tango again.”

Chiara’s flush reaches an all-time high, spreading down her neck and chest. “Look, you _know_ I just— get into it, okay, are we going yet…”

Some ineffable wave of fondness rushes over Isabel, so she pulls her girlfriend close, making sure to keep their makeup pristine, making sure to hold her as tight as she can. 

“Seriously, thank you,” she says. 

“It’s fine,” Chiara mumbles. 

“You’re so beautiful, and talented, and knowledgeable, and, and—”

“I should be saying this to you, dumbass. And we’re seriously going to be late.”

“Okay. I seriously love you.”

Chiara lets out a short, breathless laugh, something that says _I love you_ right back, and they leave to go dancing. 


End file.
